Mark of the Athena WRITTEN BY RICK RIORDAN!
by Mosqua
Summary: Tittle says it all. How the first chapter looke like.


I DO NOT OWN PJ SERIES OR THIS:

OFFICIAL  
Until she met the exploding statue, Annabeth thought  
she was prepared for anything.  
She'd paced the deck of their fl ying warship, the Argo  
II, checking and double-checking the ballistae to make sure  
they were locked down. She confi rmed that the white "We  
come in peace" fl ag was fl ying from the mast. She reviewed  
the plan with the rest of the crew—and the backup plan, and  
the backup plan for the backup plan.  
Most important, she pulled aside their war-crazed chaperone,  
Coach Gleeson Hedge, and encouraged him to take the  
morning off in his cabin and watch reruns of mixed martial  
arts championships. The last thing they needed as they fl ew  
a magical Greek trireme into a potentially hostile Roman  
camp was a middle-aged satyr in gym clothes waving a club  
and yelling "Die!"  
Everything seemed to be in order. Even that mysterious  
chill she'd been feeling since the ship launched had dissipated,  
at least for now.  
The warship descended through the clouds, but Annabeth  
couldn't stop second-guessing herself. What if this was a bad  
idea? What if the Romans panicked and attacked them on  
sight?  
The Argo II defi nitely did not look friendly. Two hundred  
feet long, with a bronze-plated hull mounted repeating crossbows  
fore and aft, a fl aming metal dragon for a fi gurehead,  
and two rotating ballistae amidships that could fi re explosive  
bolts powerful enough to blast through concrete . . . well, it  
wasn't the most appropriate ride for a meet-and-greet with  
the neighbors.  
Annabeth had tried to give the Romans a heads-up. She'd  
asked Leo to send one of his special inventions—a holographic  
scroll—to alert their friends inside the camp. Hopefully  
the message had gotten through. Leo had wanted to  
paint a giant message on the bottom of the hull—WASSUP?  
with a smiley face—but Annabeth vetoed the idea. She wasn't  
sure the Romans had a sense of humor.  
Too late to turn back now.  
The clouds broke around their hull, revealing the goldand-  
green carpet of the Oakland Hills below them. Annabeth  
gripped one of the bronze shields that lined the starboard rail.  
Her three crewmates took their places.  
On the stern quarterdeck, Leo rushed around like a madman,  
checking his gauges and wrestling levers. Most helmsmen  
would've been satisfi ed with a pilot's wheel or a tiller. Leo  
had also installed a keyboard, monitor, aviation controls from  
a Learjet, a dubstep soundboard, and motion-control sensors  
from a Nintendo Wii. He could turn the ship by pulling on  
the throttle, fi re weapons by sampling an album, or raise sails  
by shaking his Wii controllers really fast. Even by demigod  
standards, Leo was seriously ADHD.  
Piper paced back and forth between the mainmast and the  
ballistae, practicing her lines.  
"Lower your weapons," she murmured. "We just want to  
talk."  
Her charmspeak was so powerful, the words fl owed over  
Annabeth, fi lling her with the desire to drop her dagger and  
have a nice long chat.  
For a child of Aphrodite, Piper tried hard to play down  
her beauty. Today she was dressed in tattered jeans, worn-out  
sneakers, and a white tank top with pink Hello Kitty designs.  
(Maybe as a joke, though Annabeth could never be sure with  
Piper.) Her choppy brown hair was braided down the right  
side with an eagle's feather.  
Then there was Piper's boyfriend—Jason. He stood at  
the bow on the raised crossbow platform, where the Romans  
could easily spot him. His knuckles were white on the hilt  
of his golden sword. Otherwise he looked calm for a guy  
who was making himself a target. Over his jeans and orange  
Camp Half-Blood T-shirt, he'd donned a toga and a purple  
cloak—symbols of his old rank as praetor. With his windruffl  
ed blond hair and his icy blue eyes, he looked ruggedly  
handsome and in control—just like a son of Jupiter should.  
He'd grown up at Camp Jupiter, so hopefully his familiar  
face would make the Romans hesitant to blow the ship out  
of the sky.  
Annabeth tried to hide it, but she still didn't completely  
trust the guy. He acted too perfect—always following the  
rules, always doing the honorable thing. He even looked too  
perfect. In the back of her mind, she had a nagging thought:  
What if this is a trick and he betrays us? What if we sail into  
Camp Jupiter, and he says, Hey, Romans! Check out these prisoners  
and this cool ship I brought you!  
Annabeth doubted that would happen. Still, she couldn't  
look at him without getting a bitter taste in her mouth. He'd  
been part of Hera's forced "exchange program" to introduce  
the two camps. Her Most Annoying Majesty, Queen of  
Olympus, had convinced the other gods that their two sets of  
children—Roman and Greek—had to combine forces to save  
the world from the evil goddess Gaea, who was awakening  
from the earth, and her horrible children the giants.  
Without warning, Hera had plucked up Percy Jackson,  
Annabeth's boyfriend, wiped his memory, and sent him to  
the Roman camp. In exchange, the Greeks had gotten Jason.  
None of that was Jason's fault; but every time Annabeth saw  
him, she remembered how much she missed Percy.  
Percy . . . who was somewhere below them right now.  
Oh, gods. Panic welled up inside her. She forced it down.  
She couldn't aff ord to get overwhelmed.  
I'm a child of Athena, she told herself. I have to stick to my  
plan and not get distracted.  
She felt it again—that familiar shiver, as if a psychoti  
snowman had crept up behind her and was breathing down  
her neck. She turned, but no one was there.  
Must be her nerves. Even in a world of gods and monsters,  
Annabeth couldn't believe a new warship would be haunted.  
The Argo II was well protected. The Celestial bronze shields  
along the rail were enchanted to ward off monsters, and their  
onboard satyr, Coach Hedge, would have sniff ed out any  
intruders.  
Annabeth wished she could pray to her mother for guidance,  
but that wasn't possible now. Not after last month, when  
she'd had that horrible encounter with her mom and gotten  
the worst present of her life. . . .  
The cold pressed closer. She thought she heard a faint  
voice in the wind, laughing. Every muscle in her body tensed.  
Something was about to go terribly wrong.  
She almost ordered Leo to reverse course. Then, in the  
valley below, horns sounded. The Romans had spotted them.  
Annabeth thought she knew what to expect. Jason had  
described Camp Jupiter to her in great detail. Still, she had  
trouble believing her eyes. Ringed by the Oakland Hills, the  
valley was at least twice the size of Camp Half-Blood. A small  
river snaked around one side and curled toward the center like  
a capital letter G, emptying into a sparkling blue lake.  
Directly below the ship, nestled at the edge of the lake, the  
city of New Rome gleamed in the sunlight. She recognized  
landmarks Jason had told her about—the hippodrome, the  
coliseum, the temples and parks, the neighborhood of Seven  
Hills with its winding streets, colorful villas, and fl owering  
gardens.  
She saw evidence of the Romans' recent battle with an army  
of monsters. The dome was cracked open on a building she  
guessed was the Senate House. The forum's broad plaza was  
pitted with craters. Some fountains and statues were in ruins.  
Dozens of kids in togas were streaming out of the Senate  
House to get a better view of the Argo II. More Romans  
emerged from the shops and cafes, gawking and pointing as  
the ship descended.  
About half a mile to the west, where the horns were blowing,  
a Roman fort stood on a hill. It looked just like the illustrations  
Annabeth had seen in military history books—with  
a defensive trench lined with spikes, high walls, and watchtowers  
armed with scorpion ballistae. Inside, perfect rows  
of white barracks lined the main road—the Via Principalis.  
A column of demigods emerged from the gates, their  
armor and spears glinting as they hurried toward the city. In  
the midst of their ranks was an actual war elephant.  
Annabeth wanted to land the Argo II before those troops  
arrived, but the ground was still several hundred feet below.  
She scanned the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of Percy.  
Then something behind her went BOOM!  
The explosion almost knocked her overboard. She whirled  
and found herself eye to eye with an angry statue.  
"Unacceptable!" he shrieked.  
Apparently he had exploded into existence, right there on  
the deck. Sulfurous yellow smoke rolled off his shoulders.  
Cinders popped around his curly hair. From the waist down,  
he was nothing but a square marble pedestal. From the waist  
up, he was a muscular human fi gure in a carved toga.  
"I will not have weapons inside the Pomerian Line!" he  
announced in a fussy teacher voice. "I certainly will not have  
Greeks!"  
Jason shot Annabeth a look that said I've got this.  
"Terminus," he said. "It's me. Jason Grace."  
"Oh, I remember you, Jason!" Terminus grumbled. "I  
thought you had better sense than to consort with the enemies  
of Rome!"  
"But they're not enemies—"  
"That's right," Piper jumped in. "We just want to talk. If  
we could—"  
"Ha!" snapped the statue. "Don't try that charmspeak on  
me, young lady. And put down that dagger before I slap it out  
of your hands!"  
Piper glanced at her bronze dagger, which she'd apparently  
forgotten she was holding. "Um . . . okay. But how would you  
slap it? You don't have any arms."  
"Impertinence!" There was a sharp POP and a fl ash of  
yellow. Piper yelped and dropped the dagger, which was now  
smoking and sparking.  
"Lucky for you I've just been through a battle," Terminus  
announced. "If I were at full strength, I would've blasted this  
fl ying monstrosity out of the sky already!"  
"Hold up." Leo stepped forward, wagging his Wii controller.  
"Did you just call my ship a monstrosity? I know you  
didn't do that."  
The idea that Leo might attack the statue with his gaming  
device was enough to snap Annabeth out of her shock.  
"Let's all calm down." She raised her hands to show she  
had no weapons. "I take it you're Terminus, the god of boundaries.  
Jason told me you protect the city of New Rome, right?  
I'm Annabeth Chase, daughter of—"  
"Oh, I know who you are!" The statue glared at her with  
its blank white eyes. "A child of Athena, Minerva's Greek  
form. Scandalous! You Greeks have no sense of decency. We  
Romans know the proper place for that goddess."  
Annabeth clenched her jaw. This statue wasn't making it  
easy to be diplomatic. "What exactly do you mean, that goddess?  
And what's so scandalous about—"  
"Right!" Jason interrupted. "Anyway, Terminus, we're here  
on a mission of peace. We'd love permission to land so we  
can—"  
"Impossible!" the god squeaked. "Lay down your weapons  
and surrender! Leave my city immediately!"  
"Which is it?" Leo asked. "Surrender, or leave?"  
"Both!" Terminus said. "Surrender, then leave. I am slapping  
your face for asking such a stupid question, you ridiculous  
boy! Do you feel that?"  
"Wow." Leo studied Terminus with professional interest.  
"You're wound up pretty tight. You got any gears in there that  
need loosening? I could take a look."  
He exchanged the Wii controller for a screwdriver from  
his magic tool belt and tapped the statue's pedestal.  
"Stop that!" Terminus insisted. Another small explosion  
made Leo drop his screwdriver. "Weapons are not allowed on  
Roman soil inside the Pomerian Line."  
"The what?" Piper asked.  
"City limits," Jason translated.  
"And this entire ship is a weapon!" Terminus said. "You  
cannot land!"  
Down in the valley, the legion reinforcements were halfway  
to the city. The crowd in the forum was over a hundred  
strong now. Annabeth scanned the faces and . . . oh, gods.  
She saw him. He was walking toward the ship with his arms  
around two other kids like they were best buddies—a stout  
boy with a black buzz cut, and a girl wearing a Roman cavalry  
helmet. Percy looked so at ease, so happy. He wore a purple  
cape just like Jason's—the mark of a praetor.  
Annabeth's heart did a gymnastics routine.  
"Leo, stop the ship," she ordered.  
"What?"  
"You heard me. Keep us right where we are."  
Leo pulled out his controller and yanked it upward. All  
ninety oars froze in place. The ship stopped sinking.  
"Terminus," Annabeth said, "there's no rule against hovering  
over New Rome, is there?"  
The statue frowned. "Well, no . . ."  
"We can keep the ship aloft," Annabeth said. "We'll use  
a rope ladder to reach the forum. That way, the ship won't be  
on Roman soil. Not technically."  
The statue seemed to ponder this. Annabeth wondered if  
he was scratching his chin with imaginary hands.  
ANNABETH / 12  
"I like technicalities," he admitted. "Still . . ."  
"All our weapons will stay aboard the ship," Annabeth  
promised. "I assume the Romans—even those reinforcements  
marching toward us—will also have to honor your rules inside  
the Pomerian Line if you tell them to?"  
"Of course!" Terminus said. "Do I look like I tolerate rule  
breakers?"  
"Uh, Annabeth . . ." Leo said. "You sure this is a good  
idea?"  
She closed her fi sts to keep them from shaking. That cold  
feeling was still there. It fl oated just behind her, and now that  
Terminus was no longer shouting and causing explosions, she  
thought she could hear the presence laughing, as if it was  
delighted by the bad choices she was making.  
But Percy was down there . . . he was so close. She had to  
reach him.  
"It'll be fi ne," she said. "No one will be armed. We can talk  
in peace. Terminus will make sure each side obeys the rules."  
She looked at marble statue. "Do we have an agreement?"  
Terminus sniff ed. "I suppose. For now. You may climb  
down your ladder to New Rome, daughter of Athena. Please  
try not to destroy my town."


End file.
